The Masquerade
by sweet-n-sassy928
Summary: Charleze Knite is the newest recruitment for the X-Men.  With a mysterious past and an uncertain future, Remy must try to regain the trust of his childhood friend.  OC x ?. ROMY.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I don't own X Men Evolution**

"Charli?" He whispered, his brows coming together. After several moments of struggle, he looked into her eyes and there was no doubting it- that vibrant navy, like a bottomless moonlit ocean; and now even her fighting style seemed familiar. How could he not recognize her?

She opened her mouth to speak, then snapped it shut as footsteps thudded down the dark alley. In his moment of shock, she pushed him off and took off in an agile sprint.

Logan, Rogue, and Kitty stopped at the fallen team member's side. "No catching her now," Logan muttered in an angry snarl.

"Like, what the heck happened Gambit?" Kitty sighed, slightly out of breath. "You like, totally had her."

"Yeah," Rogue folded her arms over her chest. "How'd you let that one slip Swamp-Rat?" Her face soured at the loss.

"You're not going to believe dis," he rubbed the back of his neck. "But I think I know her,"

_**Earlier**_

"Why are we chasing after this girl anyway?" Rogue rolled her emerald green eyes. Not that she wasn't all about their little "_family"_, but as far as she was concerned, she already had plenty of "_family_" to drive her insane already; why did they need another wacked out mutant to rampage through the X mansion? Wasn't making Pyro an addition enough?

"Worried there won't be any attention left for you Cherie?" Gambit smirked.

"Please Swamp-Rat- maybe Ah just have better things to do with mah time then chasing after raging lunatic vigilantes to invite them to live in mah home."

"Gambit don't mind if da femme is a little crazy," he winked with a devilish glint in his eye. Rogue scoffed, disgusted by the arrogant display.

"She sounds kind of…_intense_" Kitty adjusted her seatbelt, trying to change the subject before she had to endure more Rogue/Gambit battling. "The way the prof described her, it sounds like she's a female version of Logan," it amazed her how they made such casual conversation as they thundered off in pursuit of some almost bad guy in the X Van (it also amazed her how they could just throw an "X" in front of any word- even a word as lame as van- and suddenly it would be all super-hero –ish)

"At least I'm on your side Half Pint," Logan grunted as he tore through traffic. "This girl don't want nothing to do with us."

"So she's like, how dangerous on a scale of one through ten?" Kitty bit her lower lip.

"You don't want to know." Logan rumbled.

They screeched to a stop.

Go time.

A petite female, about five foot two, approximately seventeen years old in a purple masquerade style mask and skin tight black boots, pants, and jacket exchanged shady whispers in a dark alley way, pushing a shady gentleman toward a decaying brick wall. Her ear turned up and she took a long breath through her nose. _Company_.

"Perhaps we should reschedule." She said, eyes narrow, giving the man a quick shove and running for open street. She could handle them- _only_ _four sets of steps_- but now was not the time, not if they had the one they called the Wolverine with them.

She was fast- but not fast enough. One was gaining- his stride long and his steps quick; she would have to catch him off guard.

She jumped up a fire escape, clanking up the rickety metal steps, wrenching the latter up after her.

But he was quick, agile, adapting easily to her little curve.

_No matter_, she dashed over the gravelly roof top, his figure emerging in her peripheral vision, _there's no way he'll be able to follow where I'm going_.

Ignoring the pain that would result, without any hesitation, she ran over the edge.

He stopped for a moment, catching his momentum with his hands on the grey cement ledge.

She stood, her entire body vibrating with the repercussions of the action. She grimaced, rolled her shoulders, and paused for the damages to heal themselves.

But he surprised her.

Taking a running start, he jumped down, bouncing between the blackened fire escapes safely to the floor.

Her eyes narrowed- her only option was physical confrontation. If she didn't know better, she would say the style was similar to one she already knew. But it was impossible. Knowing to neither rush, nor relax, she strode easily forward.

"Come on now," he started to say- until she threw her fist toward his face. He deflected it, holding her wrist. "Can't we just talk about dis?"

_Cajun_, she glared at him as she identified the accent, a familiar tone from her childhood. She slid her ankle under his legs, knocking him to the floor, but he dragged her down with him. She dug a knee into his chest, right where his rib cage bonded together. She looked directly into his eyes.

Bright crimson on jet black.

Her lips parted and her breath caught. _It couldn't be_…

In her millisecond of surprise, he took her off balance and pinned her to the floor. He scanned what seemed to be a pretty face- pearl white skin, platinum blond hair, and…

Navy blue eyes. He knew those eyes- how could he forget?

"Charli?"

_**Present**_

She sensed that they had stopped following her. She stopped running, unusually out of breathe- and not from the physical exertion. Her heart hammered in her chest- her pulse hadn't gone this high since before her training. She tore off the royal purple mask and unzipped the skin tight leather jacket to reveal a plain eggplant tank- she looked like any normal teenage girl strolling down the street. The heel of her black boot clicked down the empty side walk.

_Him?_ Had she not been endowed with heightened agility, she might have stumbled. _Of all the people to join up with the: him?_ She scolded herself- her training had taught her to never be caught off guard, never show emotion; next time she would most certainly not be playing the role of the surprised idiot.

Next time she would be ready.

**A/N: Dun Dun Dun! This is my first oc story so please be nice! Within the next few chapters I will probably make an official bio for my beloved original character- just to make sure things are clear=) thanks for reading! (*note* this story will be more serious than my usual pieces)  
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**S2 s-n-s**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I don't own X Men Evolution**

"If I had known, I would have made it quite clear," The professor tented his fingers, troubled. He glanced at a disgruntled Wolverine. "But frankly it has been quite difficult for me to get any kind of reading on her at all." He wheeled himself toward the window, fingers to his temple. "It's as though she has some kind of mental block- a defense mechanism that, most likely, stems from her invulnerability." He turned to Remy. "You said you know this girl?"

"Remy _knew_ her," the Cajun corrected. "But I don't remember da femme being a mutant," he shook his head, scanning back through the memories: she had always been pretty… and she knew how to put up a heck of a fight; smart too. He'd forgotten about her- or at least cast her memory aside. Until now.

"What was your relation to her?" The professor asked, not feeling the need to pry into his mind just yet.

"Charli was my first enemy," Remy chuckled. "And mon première amour." He smiled somberly at the notion. The professor raised an eyebrow. "I was eight when I met her!" He thought of the girl that he hadn't seen for five years.

Rogue sucked in her lower lip and fought off a scowl. Kitty's mouth fell into a perfect "O" shape.

"Still sure you aren't jealous Cherie?" Gambit smirked.

"I'm just sick of this sounding more and more like a soap opera." She snapped.

"Remy just sayin'- ain't no need to worry chere." He sighed. "And it never would have worked- she was an Assassin."

"So she learned how to murder people when she was like 10?" Kitty blurted out. "We're like, totally without hope!"

"Perhaps not," The Professor said, drawing attention away from a panicked Kitty. "Gambit, if you did have a personal relationship with her, is it possible she would remember you as well."

Remy chuckled. "If she's anything like Gambit remembers, she remembers _everything_."

_**Later**_

He couldn't get her out of his head- her porcelain face, half covered by that mask: a royal purple oval with a single point on the left side; he could remember every twist of the small black floral design in the single corner, and the black rhinestones on the corners of the eyes.

She'd been a best friend, one of his _only_ friends (sure she'd tried to kill him once or twice, but she'd never used him or lied to him). Over time he'd forgotten about the pretty little girl from his childhood- but now he could conjure up almost every detail.

Right down to the day she left; that memory lay perfectly intact.

"_Bon jor Belle," He said, sliding in through her window, seemingly without her knowing._

_But of course she had known- she'd been trained to know from the day she became part of the guild. And more that, her _abilities_ had been getting stronger every day. It pained her to keep them a secret from him, they were best friends- and he was like her, but she couldn't tell him; not now that she was leaving._

"_You better not say that around here- unless you want Belladonna thinking you're calling for her." She chuckled nervously, kicking a simple black suitcase farther under her bed, out of his line of vision. He chuckled back. "What are you doing here Remy?" She said after a semi-comfortable silence. She was the only one in the house without the faintest hint of an accent. She blinked her long dark lashes, her large blue eyes open, staring back into his red ones. Her white blond hair fell just past her shoulders in smooth waves._

_She wore a floral pink button up shirt, and cut off jean shorts, he, a black t-shirt and jeans. _

"_Just wanted to see you Charli," he shrugged. "You going somewhere?" He pointed to the corner of the suitcase, sticking out from under the mattress._

_She shrugged her shoulders. "Nowhere special."_

"_You're leaving," He said, more of an open statement than a question. _

"_I've been offered another place to stay," her jaw clenched. "Wilson Fisk is the latest and greatest in the line of people who want to nurture me and my talents." She failed to mention that Belladonna had demanded she leave in a fit of jealous rage._

"_And you want to go?" He asked, tilting his head to the side, mildly hurt that she hadn't mentioned it to him earlier._

_She shrugged again. "Why not? He's got tons of money, I won't exactly have to _kill _people anymore," she smirked, a tinge of sadness in her eyes. "And he can keep me in New York. I miss being home."_

"_This isn't?" he frowned._

"_Yes and no," she sighed, a long painful silence. "I'm going to miss you Gambit." She hugged her dear best friend._

_In a moment of impulse, he leaned down and touched his lips to hers- just for the quickest second._

"_I'll miss you too mon ami," He unwrapped her and walked to the window._

"_Gambit," She whispered. He looked back at the girl. "Take care of yourself."_

"_Same to you," he nodded with a sullen grin. "Keep in touch Charleze."_

_And like a thief in the night he was gone._

She nearly choked as the water from the shower head spilled and splattered over her. She remembered that night to a t- but then who doesn't remember their first kiss? Such a bittersweet moment…

She was barely twelve on that night. Twelve! And she had already _seen_ so much; _done_ so much. And she'd already been in love- or some juvenile version of it; or so she thought. In spite of everything, he'd been her best friend.

But it was too late for that now. There was no going back; no room for those kinds of _feelings_. She would have to deal with this.

She picked up the copy of _The Daily_ sitting on the black coffee table of her single bedroom loft. She smirked to herself at the small article on page six.

_Mystery Mutant Given Identity: Beware "The Masquerade" _

Charleze almost snickered to herself (if she would only allow herself so much emotion), pleased that her little calling card, an ivory piece of card stock with sparkly purple cursive, had done its job: now they would know who they feared was lurking around on the streets of New York. The only disappointment was that she was not closer to the front page. No matter, everything she had built, started, learned, was on the basis of patience. In her world it was key: it was what made her the best.

They could call it vigilante acts of judgments. It didn't bother her for them to call her names and write nasty little things about her being a mutant. She couldn't remember the last time anyone actually hurt her feelings, let alone remember if she had any feelings to be hurt. She was just administering what she never got: justice.

And by her hand, she would have her revenge.

**A/N: A little view into the history I constructed for Charli. All my ROMY readers- never fear: I am a purist and assure you there will eventually be Romy action to balance out the Remy x OC relationship. Please review!**

**S2 s-n-s**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I do not own X Men Evolution**

It had been no surprise when he popped up in her window- she could smell him when he was a half a block away.

When he snuck in the window she'd been waiting in a black arm chair, facing the opposite direction, reading _East of Eden_ under a tiny, dim lamp.

"Hello Gambit," She casually said at his noiseless entry.

"Charli," He said, a tiny smile playing at his lips.

"Charleze," She said curtly. "No one has called me Charli in a long time,"

"Well," he smirked. "Remy's not 'no one'" He ambled around the tiny loft, skimming skillful fingers over varied objects of interest as he went: a silver music box, a black leather bound copy of the bible, and a silver picture frame, with a weathered old picture in it- a boy between two blond girls; Belladonna, himself, and Charli. He smiled, so she did remember. He looked back at her. "Dis is nice. Willy set you up wit dese digs?"

"Mr. Fisk did, yes," she said coolly. "I assure you, there's nothing of value here Gambit."

"Gave up thievery a while ago belle," he shrugged. "Why don't you use Remy's real name- it's da least you could do after you ran off last time; and wit 'out even saying hello." He gave her a pompous grin. Her eyes narrowed, _some things never change_. "You kept dis?" he said. She glared at him, covering her inability to speak with a scowl. "And Remy thought you forgot." Her jaw tightened.

"Dis is real nice belle," He picked up her plum mask from a locked drawer in her black desk. "A tribute to your days in da bayou?" He smiled wistfully in spite of the unfeeling blankness on her angelic face. "Dis looks like da one Remy gave you for your first masquerade ball."

Her scarlet lips twitched- just slightly. "I didn't want to forget where I came from." She said. She watched for a moment more as he tinkered around her things. He swaggered easily through her little home. He looked at her, a youthful glint in his eye. "Well Miss Charli Boudreaux,"

"It's Charleze. And it's no longer Boudreaux." She said.

He raised his brows at her. "You took Fisk's name?"

"No. It's Knite. I went back to my real name," she said, careful about the information she handed over to him. He nodded and sat down on the black leather sofa. "How did you find me, and what do you want?" She said, done with the nonsense and ready to extinguish all traces of painful memories.

He shrugged. "Comes wit being in da business belle- you know dat- it's Gambit's business to know how to find people." He edged closer to the one time friend. "I came to see how you've been."

She didn't know what to say to that.

"I have been doing fine by myself, thank you."

He held up the newspaper. "What's wit da vigilante maneuvers?" He raised his eyebrows at her.

"Don't preach at me Gambit." She said in an even voice. "At least I have some kind of moral compass now- and you're one to talk."

"The X- Men are different mon belle petite." He shrugged. "Dey seek _real '_ justice' as you call it, and dey work as a team. New mutants are always welcome, no matter what past or present dey are coming from."

She glared and stood up. Her fingers rolled into fists.

"Notice that you still call them _they_," she said, not letting the emotion seep into her face. "I've been used by enough people who want me on there "_team_". I won't be used by your little band of do gooders too."

He stood, more easily than she did. He looked at her with a relaxed compassion she didn't understand.

"I'm just trying to help an old friend," he said "If you keep doing dis, eventually, da X- Men will catch you. And then dere will be no chance for you to get da closure you're longing for." He stared deep into her dark blue eyes. "We can help you."

"I can do this myself." She snapped.

"You don't have to." He said, clutching the brass handle on the front door. "Think about it Charli."

And like that, he was gone again.

_**Elsewhere**_

Mystique played the recording back over, and over, in silence, several times before murmuring, "Well she is crafty, isn't she?" She scanned the girl's motions, technique, and style.

"She's perfect,"

"Shall I _recruit_ her?"

The shady figure gave her a nod. "Persuade her; show her our views are not so unlike her own."

Mystique stood, transforming into a tall red-head in a grey power suit. She sauntered out the door, ready for the pursuit.

**A/N: The chapter is kind of short, I know! But it was a necessary evil. Please review=)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I do not own X- Men Evolution**

**Chapter Four**

Charleze, Charli, Miss Boudreaux- what did any of it matter; he didn't know her, not anymore. So why couldn't she get his voice out of her head. "_Think about it Charli_."

"We can _help_ you, he says." She muttered as the black heel of her boots clicked along the cracked pavement. "Be part of the _team_, he says." She shook her head and ducked between a garbage bin and flag pole. "Now look at me- he even has me talking to myself." She swallowed; what she was doing was a tall order, even if she was competent, it would be easier with help. _No, I can do this without the help of the masked do-gooders and converted thief_. The smoggy air collapsed in her lungs, in and out, unfazed spurts. She kept her head to the dingy grey pavement, waiting for her contact to emerge from the sleazy crevices of the filthy alley.

"It's a dark night," said a gruff man, leaning against a crumbling brick wall. A musky five-o'clock shadow encased his lips; the collar of an olive green trench coat covered his face.

"But the day is bright." Charleze whispered, stopping a yard in front of him. She swiveled on her spike heal. "Can you tell me what I need to know?"

"Depends," The man shrugged, a charcoal fedora casting a shadow on his face.

She reached into the pocket of her jacket, pulling out a thick stack of 50 dollar bills.

"You gotta do better that than sweetheart,"

Her eyes narrowed at the juvenile nick name, but she needed what he could tell her, so she would have to play his game. She pulled out two more bundles of money with an unchanging face. She handed him one and nodded for him to go on.

"The guy you're looking for- I can't help you. He's too high up-"

She slammed a gloved hand around his throat, shoving the shady character into the wall. "I'm not here for another wild goose chase." She said in an even voice.

"But I can get you in with a guy closer to the inside!" He choked out. She loosened her grip, just enough for him to speak.

"There's a guy, they call him the Shiner- owns the pawn shop down the street."

Allison's eyes narrowed behind the mask. No more ridiculous leads without ends. "Is that all I need to kn-"

She was interrupted by a blue woman emerging from the shadows. The information was not valuable enough to stay and cause a scene. She had what was absolutely necessary- for now- she dropped the criminal and broke down an alley to her left.

Caught off guard, stopped mid-sprint, a teenage mutant blocked her exit. She looked up for a fire escaped, then down for a drain, but found nothing (that was the problem with these shady dealings- not enough escape routes.) She paused coolly, neither winded nor afraid.

"Good evening Charleze," The blue woman sauntered forward.

"Mystique," Charleze replied. "I've heard about you- the rumors don't do you justice," the teen looked the shape-shifter up and down.

"I should say the same,"

"I don't want to sign up for your band of mutant radicals. So if you'd please have your brainwashed lacky move,"

"I assure you, Charleze, Quicksilver is no lacky," Mystique chuckled, inching forward. "And they call us _radicals_ because they don't understand us." She reached out to touch Charleze's wrist, but the girl pulled away with a testy jerk and venomous stare.

"We're not so unalike my dear," Mystique pulled her hand away and paced in a circle around the girl. "Please, give me a moment to explain."

_**Elsewhere**_

"You think you may have convinced her?" The professor asked

Remy shrugged. "It's hard to tell wit' her. All her life she's been trained not to show _anything_- even da empathy doesn't help. But maybe."

The professor nodded and tented his fingers. "Thank you Gambit. If she contacts you-"

"You'll be da first to know."

Stepping out onto the wooden floor of the vast hallway, he found it convenient to see none other than-

"Rogue," he gave her a nod and took the arm chair next to hers. She wore dark wash skinny jeans and a slouchy, three quarter sleeve charcoal t shirt.

She glanced up from the book (like she didn't know who was talking to her) and her face flattened. Going back to the book, she muttered "What do you want Gambit."

He shrugged. "I was just on my way out of da professor's office." He rested his chin on his fist, observing her obnoxiously. Her white bangs framed her face, the auburn layers falling at her shoulders.

Exasperated, she snapped her book shut. "How did your meeting with Miss Mask go?" She asked, just the slightest bit curious.

"Hard to say," he shrugged with a devilish smile- he liked to make things difficult for her (he found it was as close to flirting as the pair ever got).

After a nearly infuriating silence, she rolled her eyes. "How do you even know her anyway?" She blurted out. _Not that it's a big deal, or Ah care or need to know or whatever_.

He sighed, lacing his fingers together. "When Charli was six, she lost her parents. While they were in New York on a job, the Assassins thought she showed promise so they took her in. We worked with the Assassins sometimes and fought with them even more, so I just got to know who she was. One day they sent us out to work together- she tried to stab me with a fork and I tried to steal her charm bracelet- and we were friends ever since."

Rogue raised her eyebrows. "Heck of a way to make a friend." She said with a hiss.

"Does Remy detect a hint of jealousy?" He tilted his head while she avoided eye contact. "Rogue," he chided "You know you are mon Cherie, no need to go green."

"Oh shut up Remy," she shot up from the seat. "You're so _conceited_- maybe Ah just honestly think you had a twisted childhood." She stomped down the hall, up the stairs, and into her room.

"And maybe you're just jealous," he murmured into nowhere. _Maybe you got a right to be._

**A/N: Told you there would be ROMY ;) Please review guys. Please**.

**so sorry the update took SO long!**

**S2 s-n-s**


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